Dark Blue
T
here is a man sitting on a park bench reading a
newspaper. I get the feeling that I know him. The
needed at the time, none stayed with me as long
the full lips that seem to move ever so slightly as he
reads. I cannot see his eyes but I already know that
they are blue. Dark blue—just like the color of the
ocean beneath the liner on which we met.
The evening we met that time on the ship was
beautiful. Stars were just beginning to appear, the
moon was pale gray, and the ship’s orchestra was
playing my favorite. Mozart. I’ve liked his music
ever since I was his lover…oh, so long ago.
“Nice night,” he said, stopping by my side as I
watched the water move underneath the ship.
“Yes,” I said. “Beautiful.”
“You don’t get dizzy looking down like this?” he
asked.
Animal rights protest draws thousands. Yes. It’s
all coming back to me now. A slender, fresh-faced,
young lady of barely eighteen crossing the ocean.
An older, English gentleman with a dog by his side
it, of course, before I started it— before my soul,
hungry for experimentation, chose that fat K